Friends That Hurt
by MatildaHummingbird
Summary: ONE SHOT: Shawn makes a startling discovery, one that pushes him over the edge. The only one there is Carlton. Carlton doing his best to help, comes to his own realization. SHASSIE IMPLIED! Rated M for some language - just incase.


**[Friends that Hurt]**

**A/N: **Written for the WUMP contest on DA. Can you believe someone actually gave me permission to write this stuff? TEEHEE! Not as Shassie-rific as my other fics, but Shassie becomes apparent near the end. Enjoy!

~Matilda

The city streets were damp from the remnants of the rain earlier that day. The street lights hung overhead, illuminating dark pavement that was otherwise deserted. The citizens of Santa Barbara for the most part have seemingly all turned in for the night. All for say one motorcycle that was currently veering from lane to lane recklessly, and at a speed that wasn't only illegal, but border line suicidal.

Not that Shawn Spencer currently cared at this point. He was tired and delirious, and very upset with how his night was going so far.

He was on a case, he just couldn't crack. The culprit was breaking into museums left right and center and despite a good week of work, Shawn STILL couldn't figure it out. The fake psychic was at his wits end, and normally when that happened Shawn always went to the one person who could help keep his head on straight.

He had arrived at Henry's house at sometime between 7 and 8PM. He had bounded up the steps calling for his dad to stop whatever he was doing and to come greet Shawn in the living room. It was supposed to be a normal case solving visit. Only as Shawn entered the place, he didn't enter a bright living room. His dad wasn't watching the game, or reading a book, or fixing a fishing pole, instead his dad was nowhere to be seen. The living room however was littered with blown out candles. A sure sign his dad currently had a woman upstairs.

"Alright dad." Shawn had snickered to himself, and even made a mental note to bug his dad about it later. Shawn figured then he wasn't really in the mood to casually walk in on his dad doing – THAT, so with a quick glance around the room Shawn decided to head out.

Only it wasn't a quick glance. As he moved back to the door he noticed the red sweater hanging with the coats, it was an all too familiar sweater. She had been wearing it the last time Shawn had seen her. Something in Shawn's chest clenched, and there was a second where he had to convince himself otherwise.

_Don't be dumb Shawn, she's not here, and she has no reason to be here._

However, another quick glance and he spotted her purse on the counter nearby, he instantly recognized his mother's initial written neatly on the possession tag hanging off the zipper. The clench in Shawn's chest became an uncontrollable pounding then, and before he knew what he was doing- he was out the door.

He had been driving around about 3 hours now, and had no idea where he was going. He took advantage of the empty streets, trying to force the discovery out of his mind. How long had his parents been doing this? Was it the first time? The tenth time? They could've at least told him...Dammit it all. Shawn veered into a side road so he could speed up a little more, trying to use adrenaline to wipe away what he had just found out. He was getting closer and closer to the highway. He had his wallet on him, he could easily skip town for a few weeks. It was a thought that kept coming to mind the closer and closer he got to the city's exit. Shawn in a split second decided to make it happen, he'd find a small town, check into a motel, call Gus later.

It was a thought that never came to fruition unfortunately, as Shawn was just about to turn into the merging lane for the free way; his eyes caught the full blast of an oncoming vehicle's high beams. They seemed way too close, and Shawn was going way too fast. He swerved – the sharp turn being enough that his Norton got stuck in the turned position – it clicked in a way Shawn couldn't pull it back. In that instant, all the blood in Shawn's body drained straight to his feet. Everything around him felt cold, and the bike under him seemed to weigh him down like a cinder block. There was a small moment of recognition where Shawn just knew he wasn't getting out of this unscathed. The way the front of his bike had turned caused the back of it to spin out from under him. Shawn on instinct had hit his breaks, and the terrible squeal of rubber on concrete was the last thing he heard before his body lifted into the air.

It was terrifying, seeing his feet and the sky at the same time, but Shawn barely had time to process it as the wind completely left his body. He hit the pavement and he was only vaguely aware of the pain tearing through his body as he scraped against concrete and rock. The hard landing leaving cuts and bruises along the way, there was even a couple of sickening cracks as Shawn's arm twisted in three different directions, and his head split open on a jagged rock right against his temple. Shawn was even less aware of the fact he skidded a good 5 feet away from his completely totalled bike. So of course he had no idea when his vision blacked out entirely, and the driver of the vehicle who almost hit him had gotten out in a panic calling 911 on Shawn's behalf.

Juliet hadn't been able to get into work – she had called in sick. Lassiter was on patrol alone. So far the night was quiet and Lassiter was sticking primarily to the main roads in case he needed to jump into action. He hoped he hadn't, but there was a twisting in his stomach that kept getting worse and worse. He thought for a while that maybe he was catching whatever O'Hara had, but as the night went on he got less of a sick feeling and more of an anxious feeling. Something was wrong, terribly wrong, but what? Hours ticked by, and the damp weather provided little to no traffic and barely anyone was out and about. Lassiter was completely isolated in his car, but still his eyes kept drifting to his radio, then back to the road, his knuckles against the steering wheel turning a pearly white. He couldn't describe it, he just knew – he was waiting for something bad. It was getting so paranoid, it was making him nuts.

When the dispatcher's voice broke into the silence of the car, Lassiter nearly jumped from his seat and had to take a breath.

"We have a motor accident on exit 13 with one reported injury; I repeat we have a motor accident on exit 13 with one reported injury."

Lassiter's stomach sank completely, his mouth went dry. A motor accident? Who would possibly be stupid enough to be riding in this kind of weather? The answer hit him like a ton of bricks.

"Spencer, god dammit." Lassiter made the next turn and grabbed for the radio in one swift movement. He kept his voice pretty level but he had to try a little harder to keep his tone from the sudden panic that threatened to take over him. "This is detective Lassiter; I'm on John Counter Blvd and making my way to exit 13 approaching from the north."

Lassiter slammed the radio down and flicked on his siren. He drove as fast as the cruiser would go and made it to the scene in no less than 5 minutes. It was gruesome. The area was already blocked off by police tape, and a couple uniforms we're already there taking the truck driver's statement. Lassiter walking by only heard a glimpse of what he was saying.

"I was driving into town to make a produce delivery, I must've started to drift because the next thing I knew I was a lane over and I saw the bike make that swerve..."

Lassiter's chest clenched at that, he flashed his badge to be allowed behind the tape and he continued on. The first thing he saw was the bike, completely totalled – it was barely recognizable but a glimpse of the licence plate confirmed what Lassiter knew as soon as the dispatcher had called. It was Spencer.

Every thought process in Lassiter changed completely; he went over to McNab who was the only uniform he recognized. "How bad is Spencer's condition?" He noted that the ambulance was still parked, the doors were open but Lassiter couldn't see Spencer through the backs of the paramedics.

"He's out cold." McNab said. "Hurt pretty bad, the paramedics are taking him in shortly." McNab sounded upset, and Lassiter sort of sympathized, but his mind was overly concerned for Spencer to really care.

"I'm going to escort Spencer to the hospital and call Guster and his dad; you're okay processing the scene?" Lassiter asked. McNab nodded.

"Good, thank you." Lassiter said, and when the paramedics started to pack up the ambulance and leave, Lassiter got in his car and followed suit. He didn't call Henry and Gus right away; he wanted to wait to make sure Spencer was okay, because the thought of having to call if Spencer wasn't okay...Ugh, part of Lassiter wanted to start shaking.

He waited rather impatiently, pacing back and forth across the small waiting room. His mind kept going back to the dispatcher's call and how he seemed to know it was Spencer. If he didn't know better he'd say maybe he had a psychic hunch. "HA!" Lassiter tried to make himself feel better by laughing at himself. He was not psychic. He forced himself to think of something else... Anything else.

_The bike, completely totalled and ripped apart, and the lights of the ambulance shining off his face._

Dammit all. Lassiter sank into his chair shaking his head. Finally – FINALLY a white lab coat came out of a pair of double doors looking over a chart. "Detective Lassiter?"

Lassiter stood. "Yes doctor?"

"We stitched up his head, casted his arm, and he has a torn muscle in his leg that'll take a good few weeks to heal completely. He'll need to stay with someone during his recovery."

"But he's okay?" Lassiter sounded ecstatic.

"He hasn't woken up yet." The doctor admitted. "But he's breathing on his own, so we suspect within the next couple of days."

A couple of days -a couple of freaking days? Lassiter almost yelled at the doctor, but he figured he couldn't blame him. He bit his tongue. "What room is he in?"

The doctor pointed Lassiter to Shawn's room, and when he stepped in it was like he was stepping into a night mare. Shawn's head was wrapped up, and lulled to the side a little uncomfortably. His broken arm was casted up from his shoulder all the way to his knuckles. His leg was prepped up in a brace. Most of his skin was bruised to a deep purple. Small scrapes and cuts were everywhere and already starting to scab over. Seeing Shawn like that – something caught in Lassiter's throat. He didn't say anything – who would hear him? Instead Lassiter just forced himself to walk over to Shawn's bed and proceed to fix Shawn's pillow. He was in the process of fluffy it up when he heard a soft groan. Spencer? But the doctor said it'd be a couple days...

"Lassie?"

Shawn's voice was a hoarse whisper, Lassiter froze -he didn't like Shawn's voice like that.

"Yeah?" Lassiter forced himself to respond, and he stepped away from the bed to look Shawn over. Shawn was staring at him with empty eyes, it was haunting. That's not how Spencer's eyes were supposed to be – they were supposed to be joyous, and lively. Spencer wasn't supposed to be in a hospital bed, he was supposed to be doing jumping jacks on his desk and vomiting out rainbow coloured pineapples.

"It hurts." Shawn said. Lassiter then watched in an odd horror as Shawn tried to lift his head. "Why is it hard to move?"

"You had an accident." Lassiter said softly. "I escorted you here."

"Oh." Shawn said, he then seemed to remember and those empty eyes filled with something dark. Lassiter didn't know what to think or feel about that. Up until this point Spencer had always been a nuisance in his life- but now? Now all Lassiter wanted to do was forget he was a cop on duty and take Spencer home.

_Don't be ridiculous Carlton, he's emotional because he just had an accident, its NORMAL now do your job and contact his family._

"You're awake, and you're going to recover." Lassiter said. "I just have to contact your father and fill out my report; the rest is up to you."

"Don't call my dad." Shawn said suddenly.

"Pardon?" Lassiter blinked. "It's part of the job, I have to call the family."

"No." Shawn made himself perfectly clear. "I don't want to see him."

"Spencer -...I."

"I don't want to see him!" Shawn snapped a bit, it startled Lassiter to no end. Lassiter looked up at Shawn fully and couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Spencer – are you crying?"

"I don't want to see him." Shawn repeated, the events of the night replaying in his mind. His parents were together, if Lassiter called they would both arrive and Shawn couldn't face them. They were lying to him. It hurt too much. The tears were coming slowly but they were still there.

"Spencer." Lassiter tried again. "..What if I called Gus?"

Shawn shook his head. He was beaten and defeated; he just wanted to be alone. "Not tonight."

Shawn turned his head away from Lassiter, but Lassiter could tell by the slight trembles that Shawn was actually crying. This wasn't Spencer emotional after a wreck; this was Spencer emotional after something had upset him greatly. Lassiter's head spun and in that instant he became even more of a mess. What the hell was he feeling? He was scared that Shawn had been hurt, he was livid that Spencer didn't want him calling the family and finishing his job, he was heartbroken that Shawn was crying.

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

Lassiter gave in to the last feeling, and going over to Spencer to try and comfort him, he put his hand on Spencer's good arm. Everything in the room went silent, and for a second Lassiter was sure Shawn had fallen back asleep. Only as soon as Lassiter was sure Shawn had drifted off, Shawn took Lassiter by surprise and started sobbing.

"I just don't get it!" Shawn cried, and he sunk his head further into his pillow, refusing to look up at Lassiter. "I just don't get it!" Shawn proceeded to sob.

"Shawn..." Lassiter once again didn't know what to think - or do for that matter, he had no idea what was happening, it was scaring him.

"I was just a kid! A kid! I came home every single day to them, yelling, and hollering, all the 'you're wrong about this!' and 'you're wrong about that!' EVERY DAY!" Shawn stopped to take a breath, and he sobbed again, his voice becoming strained as he went on. "When they were together all they did was fight, and fight, and fight. Do you know how painful it is, to know when you're 8 that your parents didn't love each other? Other kids in class, sure, they had divorced parents, but they talked about how they got to see their dad's on the weekend, or their parents still took them out to dinner as a family, sometimes they even got pretty cool step parents to brag about? But me? I had to listen to my mother talking to herself, and going on and on about how if I didn't exist she would've been gone long ago, and that marrying dad was a mistake! How the hell is a kid supposed to take that? ! And my dad was so – determined to avoid her at all costs that he practically hovered over me! Every day was some new stupid lesson about how 'cops do it this way,' and 'the best way to catch a bank robber is this way' and on and on and on. He hated that marriage too, and he knew I knew. He always told me 'I want her to be happy' like I gave a shit! I just wanted them to stop yelling! Then as I got older, the yelling got louder, the language got dirtier because – hey 'Shawn's probably heard all these bad words by now, we don't need to censor it.' God dammit, I was still a kid! The only time there was no yelling was when mom was gone, and by then she was gone all the time. She didn't want to soil her good name by becoming that newly divorced mother, so instead she worked so much she barely saw us, because she didn't want to see us."

There was a pause, and Lassiter couldn't believe everything he just heard. I mean – yeah... Spencer's parents were no longer together, but Lassiter had met them both and actually thought they were well functioning people. He never once thought for a second Spencer came from the same type of home he had with his mostly absent. Shawn stopped talking and just kept crying. Lassiter without really thinking about it stroked Shawn's arm until he calmed down. Lassiter again, thought for a second Shawn was done, but as soon as Shawn had stopped shaking, he kept talking in a quieter voice.

"I got used to her coming and going, you know? It was her job, it's what she did. I knew that if she left, I'd see her again in a couple weeks, maybe a month if she did over time. Then...in my teens, she never came back. My dad, acted all tough about it, made me believe he threw her out so that I would hate him over her. I hated him for years, lived with him in a mocking tolerance where all I did was be a smart ass and all he did was ground me for it. Then...that was it -that was the end of it. Everything else was history, or at least I thought it was. Tonight comes around, I go over to my dad's for something, and I walk into blown out candles, and her purse sitting on the counter. They're together right now, and they didn't have the decency to call me, or warn me...They just...I don't know. I don't even know anymore, and I hate it. They can't just leave each other alone. When will they learn all they do is hurt each other and me?"

Lassiter's brain? Panick. This was a side of Shawn, he never thought in a million years he would see – ever. Lassiter was not capable of taking on the heavy emotions of another, let alone sharing his own. Still, Spencer was in a hospital bed, in tears. There was no way he could just leave. "I don't think they're trying to hurt you." Lassiter offered then.

Shawn's eyes snapped open, he had been so wrapped up in his life's story he had actually forgotten who he was crying too. Lassiter's voice caught him by surprise. "Oh god...Lassie I'm so sorry I didn't mean.."

"Wait, hear me out." Lassiter said. "When I..." Oh god he was sharing this. God help him.

"When I got divorced. It was like, learning to walk in a whole new world. People looked at me differently, really annoying co-workers who kept trying to be my friend, kept asking me if I was okay. It was downright annoying. Anyway moving on. After Victoria and I separated, there were...a few times, more then I like to admit where...we'd end up together. Every single time I'd wake up the next day feeling like I had betrayed myself, and my morals, and there was always this 14 hour window where all I'd want to do is stay home and watch television. But I wouldn't be able to because I'd have to work. So instead I'd put my uniform on, go to the station, and just snap at people all day. If you think I'm snippy now, you should've met me back then."

Shawn gave a small ghost of a smile at that. That made Lassiter feel a bit better, so he kept talking.

"The point is, during that 14 hour window I said a lot of things, to a lot of people that I'm not proud of. I developed a reputation. No one realized that I wasn't trying to hurt them, I was just avoiding the fact that I had hurt myself by once again going after something that just wasn't there."

Shawn had turned back to face Lassiter fully, and didn't seem to notice or care that Lassiter still had his hand on Shawn's good arm. "Your divorce sounds like it sucked."

"It really did." Lassiter didn't notice either, but in his defence he and Shawn were having a moment. Any second now his body was going to catch up to that fact and have a stroke, so he was taking it while it lasted.

"Your parent's weren't trying to hurt you. No one in their right mind would try to hurt you – period. Spencer I don't think you realize what you mean to a lot of people."

"I highly doubt it." Shawn said. "I'm just me Lassie. I do Psych with Gus, but that's really it. It's my job, nothing more."

"Nothing more, are you kidding me?" Lassiter's voice went back to a normal tone and he sounded offended. "Spencer – you help A LOT of people. Good people, people who deserve it. With no formal training, or worry for consequence you just jump right into police work and get it done. You're a mask away from being a superhero for god's sake! Mean while you still have time to hang out with your best friend, you still have time to perform ridiculous dances from the 80s and the 90s that no one cares about -what was it last week, the Macarena? Who does that anymore? You do! Because you're Spencer! The Chief practically thinks you're gold, McNab wants to be you, O'Hara day dreams about a picket fence and tiny Spencer babies with little pineapple shaped pacifiers and I..." Lassiter stopped.

"No no." Shawn suddenly insisted. "You're not done yet Lassie – you what?"

"Nothing." Lassiter said. "Nothing."

"Lassie." Shawn's voice was still hoarse from crying, but he sounded desperate. "If I had died tonight, what would you have said? Or done? Nothing right? Because you hate me?"

"What? No, Spencer – that isn't fair."

"Then finish your sentence." Shawn pleaded. "O'Hara day dreams about a picket fence and tiny Spencer babies with pineapple shaped pacifiers that squeak-"

"I never said they squeaked."

"Well they squeak now! And you? C'mon Lassie you what?"

"I care about you Spencer." Lassiter gave in. "So much, that, tonight before everything happened. I had a feeling something was going to go wrong. I ignored it because half the time when I think I have an instinct -it's just taco bell hitting all the wrong places. Then the dispatcher called in and announced an accident. I sped there as fast as my car could go because I knew, I knew it was you and I was scared. Scared that I was too late, scared that so much worse had happened to you than this." As Lassiter talked, his hand moved and before either of them realized it, they were holding hands. "I didn't want to lose you Shawn."

"I'm not sure, if it's the morphine talking." Shawn suddenly started. "But, this is – I think this right here, made tonight all worth it." Shawn gave a crooked smile; it actually brightened up that bruised face of his. However his eyes started to close, he was falling asleep. "You're a really good friend Lassie."

Lassiter watched as Shawn's breathing evened. Shawn was sleeping, his last words leaving Lassiter feeling lost. Those last words echoed, and suddenly Lassiter was coming to a realization that made him hold onto Shawn's hand tighter. Shawn had just said he was a good friend, but that wasn't good enough for Lassiter. Lassiter lowered his voice to a whisper.

"I want more than that."


End file.
